Page 32 of Secret Hudson

Watching Royce and Francis makes me wish I was a violent fucking person. Because if I was more aggressive, I could run to the restroom and pummel a trash can or punch a fucking mirror or something, anything to make me feel better. Except I’m not the beat the shit out of inanimate objects type, and I definitely am not the beat up a girl type, so that leaves me with the agonizing reality in which I’m a fucking pussy who has to fight back actual goddamn tears while his boyfriend goes about humiliating him in public.

Fine. He explained not coming out in public. And I understood. I didn’t fucking agree, but damn it, I understood. But this? Bringing an actual date while I’m standing right besidehim? It’s like going from being a secret to being fucking invisible.

I can handle not being seen by the world but having Royce stare through me like I’m not even here, not standing two fucking feet in front of him, that is unbearable.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ROYCE

Ironically, the only two people talking and having a good time on the drive home are Derek and Sammy. And even with all of my own shit bringing me down, I don’t even hold their blissful ignorance against them. If Derek can steal himself a moment of actual happiness after the grief he’s suffered in the last few months, I’m all for it. I’ve certainly had my share of happy times recently, which probably means I’m long overdue for the impending dose of massive misery headed my way.

It doesn’t even matter that we rocked the EMAs, or that our performance is blowing up on social media sites everywhere. Nor does it make a damn difference that we walked away with three awards, including best song. Nothing is going to salvage this evening short of Hudson getting a sudden bout of amnesia and forgetting about the entire day. And I just don’t see that happening.

“You want to tell me what the fuck happened here tonight?” The door has barely shut behind me.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you I was going to go with Francis. But I mean, it was nothing. We just went as friends. You know that.” I’m so fucking lame. And spineless. How the hell I manage to stand upright at all, is a fucking mystery to me.

“Oh, do I know that? I mean, I would have thought that you were just friends if I hadn’t heard you suggest the exact opposite with my own fucking ears.” He’s yelling, but that isn’t the worst part. His voice cracked. He isn’t just pissed off. He’s hurt. Really, fucking hurt. And I’m the reason. I did that. And that fucking kills me like nothing else ever has.

I muster a step toward him, but he turns his back on me instantly.

“Hudson. What did you want me to do? Everyone else was taking a date. I couldn’t just show up at the fucking EMAs alone. This shit just doesn’t work that way.” I run my fingers through my hair multiple times trying to hide that my hands are shaking. Not that Hudson would notice anyway. Isn’t like he’s even looking at me.

“That’s bullshit, Royce. You’re not the first musician to ever settle down. You telling me Derek gets a fill-in date when Sammy can’t make it?” He’s busy digging around in his camera bag and I get the terrifying notion that he’s packing.

“Derek’s situation is different. Everyone knows he’s married,” I say flatly, too focused on trying to determine if he’s busy adding things to his bag or just re-organizing things in an attempt to stay distracted.

This time his head shoots up to face me. “Yeah. Exactly. Everyone knows.”

And we’re back to that. Fuck.

“I already told you. I can’t tell people I’m in a fucking relationship.”

He drops his bag on the bed. “Yeah, I remember. I just don’t buy it. What would be the big deal in just announcing that you were with someone?”

“The big deal is that people would want to know who I was with. The media would start digging. And I can’t risk anyone finding out it’s...you.” Now it’s my turn to look away. Thing is, no matter how much Hudson has to hate me in this moment, it’s nothing compared to how much I hate myself.

“Right.” His tone is quiet. Almost inaudible. “Because that would upset Ava, right?”

And even though I know he hardly even believes that anymore, I jump on it like a drowning man leaping onto a sinking raft.

“It would. Why the hell do you think she made Francis pretend to be my girlfriend tonight?!” It’s a good thing I already can’t stand myself, because I fucking hate liars.

“You’re telling me that Ava arranged the whole thing? That she insisted you put on this whole show tonight and wouldn’t just let you go alone?”

“Yes!” I have no clue where my complete conviction is coming from, except that maybe it’s a surge of severely misguided desperation.

“Well, in that case, you’re both assholes.” He picks up his bag again and then opens the closet to retrieve his duffle bag containing his clothes.

“Where are you going?” I take a step out to block the doorway.

“I don’t know yet, but there’s no fucking way I’m staying here. I’ve never spent a single day of my life in the closet, Royce. I’m not about to let you shove me into one now. You want to stay inside, cool, stay there. I get it. It’s safe. Being openly gay has cost me shit. So, I really, really get it. Thing is, I can’tlet everything I’ve sacrificed and endured over the years be for nothing now.”

He brushes past me and reaches for the door handle. I catch his hand just as he’s turning it.

“Hudson.”

“I’m sorry, Royce. I get that you feel like you have to do this. I just can’t.”

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